Focusing on Our Abundance

It is perhaps the dominant human experience to always think “This is not enough.” We want more of all good things, and we ignore the fact that what we have is already enough, always. We want heaps of faith. We want heaps of worldly possessions. We want . . . It is the wanting that keeps us off-center and it is here again where prayers of gratitude begin to satiate the hungry heart. If we are saying “Thank you God for exactly what I have right now,” then we are less likely to be mentally demanding more. When we are focused on the abundance that we do have, then we are able to let go of needing always to have more. What we have is actually doing us quite nicely — if only we can see it, which we so often cannot.

— Julia Cameron, Faith and Will, p. 89

True Justice

A just man is one who cares, and tries, and always tries, to give fair play to everyone in everything. When we speak of the justice of God, let us see that we do indeed mean justice! Punishment of the guilty may be involved in justice, but it does not constitute the justice of God one atom more than it would constitute the justice of a man.

— George MacDonald, Wisdom to Live By, p. 197

Shine Like a Star

You need not apologize for being brilliant, talented, gorgeous, rich, or smart. Your success doesn’t take away from anyone else’s. It actually increases the possibility that others can have it too. Your money increases your capacity to give money to others, your joy increases your capacity to give joy to others, and your love increases your capacity to give love to others. Your playing small serves no one. It is a sick game. It is old thinking, and it is dire for the planet. Stop it immediately. Come home to the castle.

— Marianne Williamson, A Woman’s Worth, p. 54

Nothing Random

Ours is an abundant world, but it seldom seems that way when we are demanding more. When we say “Thy will, not mine,” we are saying, “This is enough,” and in saying that, we may actually have that experience. This is an experience of acceptance, and acceptance is usually the sticking point when it comes to our will versus God’s. We would accept God’s will for us if we could just see where it was going. If God would just give us a glimpse of what we were being prepared for, then we would go along with God’s preparations. If we are all indeed being brought along like fighters, then there is nothing random in what we are given. We are given just what we need at all times to further our spiritual growth, fund our spiritual development.

— Julia Cameron, Faith and Will, p. 89

Changing the World with Words

Though it was not part of a lesson plan, it imparted a truth that left me spellbound. Great words, arranged with cunning and artistry, could change the perceived world for some readers. From the beginning, I’ve searched out those writers unafraid to stir up the emotions, who entrust me with their darkest passions, their most indestructible yearnings, and their most soul-killing doubts. I trust the great novelists to teach me how to live, how to feel, how to love and hate. I trust them to show me the dangers I will encounter on the road as I stagger on my own troubled passage through a complicated life of books that try to teach me how to die.

— Pat Conroy, My Reading Life, p. 10-11

Improving with Age

Let us imagine a woman’s life improving as she ages. Age doesn’t have to be bad. It could, in fact, be magnificent, if we would take our spiritual lives more seriously. Throughout our twenties and thirties, we care so much about what the Joneses think, even if we think we don’t. These two decades are the time when we’re most tempted to try to live for others. Around forty, it occurs to us that the Joneses are either going to like us or they’re not, that the Joneses have holes in their socks too, thank you, and that we have less control over what other people think than we ever imagined.

— Marianne Williamson, A Woman’s Worth, p. 49

Collaborators

The idea that God can be invited to co-create a life with us gives us a vested interest in the life we are making. We are not the victim any longer. On the other hand, we are not the sole creator. We are the collaborator. We are involved with God in a partnership, and this is where it gets interesting.

If God’s will and our will are not at opposite ends of the table, they may be said to be in communication with each other. We may find, as we pray, that what we pray for becomes more and more what we have. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which came first, God’s will for us or our will to do God’s will? We are endowed with freedom, and it is our perfect right to use that freedom to pursue an understanding of God’s will for us. That is to say, we can entrain our own will to a higher will and in so doing experience more freedom, not less.

— Julia Cameron, Faith and Will, p. 87

Riches from the Library

Books permitted me to embark on dangerous voyages to a world of painted faces of mandrills and leopards scanning the vbeldt from the high branches of a baobab tree. There was nothing my mother could not bring me from a library. When I met a young marine in the woods one day hunting butterflies with a net and a killing jar, my mother checked out a book that took me far into the world of lepidoptera, with hairstreaks, sulphurs, and fritillaries placed in solemn rows.

Whatever prize I brought out of the woods, my mother could match with a book from the library She read so many books that she was famous among the librarians in every town she entered. Since she did not attend college, she looked to librarians as her magic carpet into a serious intellectual life. Books contained powerful amulets that could lead to paths of certain wisdom. Novels taught her everything she needed to know about the mysteries and uncertainties of being human.

— Pat Conroy, My Reading Life, p. 4-5

Smelling Salts

Christianity, however, teaches that God hates the suffering and oppression of this material world so much, he was willing to get involved in it and to fight against it. Properly understood, Christianity is by no means the opiate of the people. It’s more like the smelling salts.

— Timothy Keller, The Prodigal God, p. 113